


we were never here

by misgivings (orphan_account)



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen, Gore, Zombies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-06
Updated: 2012-01-06
Packaged: 2017-10-29 00:59:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/314098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/misgivings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>By the end of it all you can safely say you have never trusted anyone more than you do these three. A zombie apocalypse will do that for you.</p>
            </blockquote>





	we were never here

**Author's Note:**

> I know zombiestuck isn't exactly the most original thing, but if there are two things I love its zombies and Homestuck, so I would be remiss if I didn't at least try to write something combining the two. I almost (almost) made this a crossover with with video game Left 4 Dead 2, but that would be a complete lie. I love the games mechanics and emphasis on survival rather than explanation, so some elements were inspired by the game, but no knowledge of the L4D series is needed to read this at all! Hope you enjoy and feedback is appreciated.

–and Dave is at your back, as always, the butt of his gun hitting your shoulder with the recoil of every shot. It hardly bothers you, you've got both arms outstretched, guns ablaze and you know half the shots you fire are missing their target, but every screech of an infected stumbling and falling gives you hope.

"Shit, shit, _shit_ ," you mutter under your breath, fumbling with the ammo you have hanging precariously off your belt loop, and, of course, it drops from your sticky, stained red hands. It's suicide, leaning down to pick it up, but you aren't scared at all.

Dave turns like he's been doing this his whole life, leaning over you and you don't doubt that the bullet he fires hits one of those shambling motherfuckers right between the eyes.

Locked and loaded, the two of you run as fast as you can, and then faster still.

.

If it was just the two of you, you'd be dead by now.

Without Rose's almost magical way with melee weapons and medkits and without Jade's ability to aim a gun with more accuracy than you could ever hope to learn–without the two of them, you'd be dead. Dave would probably be dead, too, not that he'd ever admit it, but his affection towards the shitty swords you sometimes find lying around really isn't helping any.

You're easily the weakest of the group in terms of skill with weapons, but you're also the only one who comes up with half decent ideas for what to do most of the time.

You guess you're sort of the leader, but that doesn't count for much when the entire world's falling to hell around you.

Sometimes you think about it, before you fall asleep (when you _can't_ fall asleep), the accolades and the awards, the four of you standing before thousands of people, being hailed as saviors.

But those are just dreams you have while you're awake, delirious thoughts that come to you in the middle of the night when all you can hear is three other people breathing heavily, and the strangled moans from outside the doors of whatever home you've managed to barricade for the night.

.

One day Jade cries big crocodile tears, and she does it all while killing more than half the hoard that's coming after you.

It was bound to happen eventually, but it's still shocking, seeing her that way, lip trembling as she pulls the trigger on her shotgun again and again. Her sobs are barely contained, but none of you chide her, it's not worth it, and it's not like any of you blame her.

That night you're wrapping guaze around her knee where she got scratched, and she says, unprompted, "I just finally realized that they were people, just like us."

There's a scoff and you look over your shoulder to see Dave, a frown on his face, and Rose, looking worried.

"Yeah, well," you say, turning back to the green-eyed girl, "now they're not. And it sucks, because I don't know about you guys but I don't want to kill anyone, even if they're already dead, but it's us or them. And we'll be letting a lot of people down if it's us."

Jade sniffs, but she nods, slowly.

None of you mention that it's been over a week since you've seen anyone who wasn't infected.

.

There's the deafening sound of a chainsaw being revved up and before you can even yell for help Rose is above you, mouth set in a firm line and not even flinching as bits of flesh and various pieces of interal organs rain onto her. The last infected falls and, without a word, she reaches a hand down to pull you up.

She doesn't ask you if it hurts as she puts pressure on a gash on your shoulder, doesn't make a face as your blood runs down her arm, and only just blinks when you finally let a little strangled cry escape your lips as she uses a piece of torn fabric to cover the wound.

"We'll get you stitched up later," she says, like there's no doubt in her mind that you'll all make it through this day, just like any other.

Covered in gore and spittle, she's most radiant person you've ever seen, and you follow her without hesitation.

.

Every so often there's a lull, and you'll be standing watch while Jade and Rose go scavenging for food and supplies inside an abandoned grocery store.

Infected howl in the distance, strangled screams of hunger (not agony, you tell yourself, they're not in pain, they're not capable of feeling).

Dave throws pieces of twisted metal like they're darts, and he doesn't think you notice that he smirks in satisfaction on the rare times he hits his mark. Neither of you have ammo to spare, the last place where you were able to stock up was almost three miles back, a run down, small town pharmacy with messages spray painted on the walls.

Your gun has a cracked scope on top of it and you look through it, setting your sights on the dark form of a lonely monster moving aimlessly. You mimic pulling the trigger, clicking your tongue against the roof of your mouth, and pretending it was a perfect headshot, ripping the top of the skull right off, brains flying into the air as the body topples backwards onto the ground.

Dave watches you and you wait for a sarcastic remark, some Annie Oakley reference with a dash of irony, but he doesn't say anything.

A lot has changed.

.

When the four of you first met it was a fire forged alliance, four teenagers stumbling into the zombie apocalypse, only two of them armed and competent. The four of you made your way north out of Texas on the wing of something that might have been a prayer, but was probably just good old fashioned dumb luck.

None of you know anything about each other, not really. There are little hints, like the way Dave will let his voice slip into a slight drawl when he's exhausted, the things Jade mumbles in her sleep, names and places, and Rose's stony eyed look of determination whenever making it up north is the topic of dicussion.

In the end, it's better not to know much about them.

You already get choked up when any one of them gets a particularly nasty injury.

You don't like to think about how it would feel for one of them to die.

Sometimes the four of you walk past piles of rotting bodies, the stench hanging heavy with flies in the air, and you wonder how far these people came, only to end up as an obstacle in the road.

Those are the times when you wish you could swallow your fear but, instead, you slink into the middle of the group, feeling small and insignificant, one of a group of four that is slowly making their way nowhere.

.

Rose slaps a clip of ammo into the palm of your hand and you reload without even having to think. Dave is ahead of the two of you, charging down the highway silently, sword in his grip, and for all you tease him about it he takes down three infected faster than you could with a gun. Jade brings up the rear, back to the group, picking off stragglers that the rest of you missed, her tiny frame tense with determination.

There's a screech from the dark underpass in front of you. The lights on long roads like this have long since burned out, and the four of you are running on energy pills and pure adrenaline, holding out on the hope of a safe house showing up out of nowhere.

The infected that bumbles out towards you is like none you've ever seen before, its monstrous arms dangling in front of itself like an ape. It barely looks human, though it must have once been, its skin is twisted and mottled red, eyes dark and unblinking. You let out a small whimper of fear without even thinking.

Rose's hand is on your shoulder, a quick squeeze of reassurance, and Dave looks back at you for just a second before running forward and slicing at the thing's stomach. Behind you Jade screams out, a combination of anger and frustration, the  _why is this happening_ mentality that none of you can shed coming out in the form of a wordless yell, as she raises her gun high and aims for the head.

When it's dead you all stand around it, like you're going to figure anything out.

"It's different," you say, and none of them can even muster up the strength to call you captain obvious, because there's nothing else to say, really. "It's so fucking big. None of them–they've all been normal sized. What happened to it?"

Dave kicks at one of the gigantic arms with the toe of his shoe, grimacing at the noise it makes, a squelchy, wet sound. "Probably some fucker all hyped up on steroids," he says, slouching ever so slightly. "Can't say he looks any different than any of the WWE wrestlers I've ever seen."

"Ugh, gross," Jade says, sticking out her tongue. "Now your shoe has infected goop on it, nasty." Her gun is slung over her shoulder now and she puts her hands on her hips, leaning forward. "If you even think about getting that on me I'll shoot you right in the balls."

You can't help but laugh at that, and then Rose is musing on the implications of Dave watching wrestling ("highly homoerotic," is a thing she actually says), and once more you're moving down the highway, all sides covered, weapons raised and ready.

.

You and Jade share a bed while Dave and Rose take watch. There's no prelude to it, neither of you shed any clothes, just leave your shoes at the bottom of the bed, falling down on the pillows with a sort of empty sigh shared between the two of you.

It's useless, honestly. Jade likes to curl up into a ball, her head at your chin, and you play idly with pieces of her hair while she pretends to sleep. Her hair is matted with mud and blood and god knows what else, and you don't blame her for being too tired to do anything about it.

You'd all kill for a shower, which is a bit of an obvious saying, seeing as how you've all killed for a lot less.

Sometimes Jade actually does fall asleep, out of nowhere, like she didn't really mean to. Her back will relax and her breathing will become even, her brow no longer furrowed. She whimpers and whines all the while, like a scared dog, running from her nightmares.

You must fall asleep, too, though it happens rarely.

You'll wake up and instead of Jade laying there it will be Dave, laying flat on his back, sunglasses to the side and arm over his eyes. He sleeps restlessly, fitfully, falling in and out of it, one moment dead to the world and the next he's mumbling for you to move as he tosses and turns.

Or it will be Rose, back to you, pale legs stretched out and arms wrapped around her own shoulders, the only comfort she'll accept. Quiet Rose who hardly moves at all and doesn't mind one bit if you lay right behind her, forehead pressed to her back and hand on her stomach, legs tangled with her.

You sleep with a warning in your mind, a worry in the back of your brain. You sleep on the edge of consciousness, sitting straight up when you hear a piercing shriek, a shot being fired, the clatter and clink of glasses in the next room, a cough from downstairs. You wake up and your eyes burn behind your glasses, you misstep out of bed, blinking blearily, and it's just another morning.

You dream of absolutely nothing and that's more than you could ever ask for.

.

It's been a month since your eighteenth birthday.

A month since you frantically ran into the supply closet at the end of the hotel hallway, only to find it already occupied by two blondes, who just looked at each other and then back at you, before the girl threw a screwdriver in your direction, a hacksaw in her hand.

A month since your first kill, an infected on top of you and you were so sure you were going to die, you completely forgot about the screwdriver until the last minute, when you shoved it into the disgusting thing's eye socket, causing it to vomit blood and green fluid onto you.

A month since you pushed the dead body off of you and ran like hell, not even pausing before grabbing the blond guy's outstretched hand and let him pull you into a stairwell, sitting next to him with your back against the door, straining to keep it shut behind you despite the fucking army advancing behind you.

A whole goddamn month since a girl with a black mane of hair appeared in front of the three of you, stance set as she yelled for all of you to move before pushing the door open and unloading a hail of bullets on the hoard there until the only sound was her heavy breathing.

It's been a month since: "I'm Rose." "Dave." "Jade." and "John."

It feels like it's been a lifetime.

.

There's never enough food for all four of you.

Sometimes you'll get lucky and find enough non-parishables in someone's pantry, and you'll all eat a meal together over a makeshift fire. Mostly, though, you just eat things cold, out of cans, only taking the tiniest amount, passing things around and trying to pretend like you're not hungrier than you've ever been before.

One night, when you hand a can of corn to Jade, you say, "I think the last meal I had was ice cream. Neapolitan. I didn't even eat the vanilla part, and I completely skipped the cake my dad made."

It's quiet for a few moments while Jade eats whats left in the can, then: "Hm. For me it was...a hamburger and fries at a restaurant down the street from the hotel. I remember walking back with a large Diet Coke, extra ice."

"I'd eat that whole cake now," you sigh, bringing your knees up to your chest and closing your eyes. "The whole damn thing."

"Two pieces of pizza, extra cheese and half a can of iced tea," Dave offers from across the room where he's bundled up in a ratty blanket. He gets cold easily. Jade pushes the near empty can of corn his way. "My brother ate the rest of the pizza, could've gone for another piece, honestly."

"A whole pizza sounds so _good_ ," Jade says, stretching her arms above her head, the soft sound of bones cracking in her back. "Even bad pizza, greasy with thin pepperoni and dry crust."

"We could start up a chain," Dave muses, his finger idly tapping against his blanket-covered knee. "Being a pizza boy is pretty fucking menial, I don't doubt we could pay some of those assholes out there in eyeballs or some shit."

"Eww," Jade giggles, "an extra large pizza with eyeballs on top."

A noise comes from the bed at the back of the safe room and you all turn to look, suddenly tense. Rose is sitting up, eyes just barely open, swaying slightly.

The three of you are up in what you figure is record time, Jade on the floor before her, you on the edge of the bed and Dave lingering behind, but still there. She's woozy, but she's okay. She's got bruises, but she smiles around them. She's hurt, but she's still alive.

Somehow, you all are.

.

You realize that no one is going to save you one night.

It's something you've known for a while, not due to any big event, but more due to a lack of them.

There are no military planes flying overhead, no messages but the ones spraypainted by suvivors you've had yet to encounter. There are abandoned evacuation centers, but they are few and far between, and those that you do see are riddled with nothing but corpses. The safe houses you find are places where people have died, barricaded fortresses that sound more impressive than they really are.

You're not sure how the four of you have made it this far, with only a few stitched up wounds to display as battle scars. Four teenagers scared out of their minds, fighting for their lives, and more terrified than you ever thought was possible.

Your hands shake and silence has never scared you any more than it does right now.

.

Cold washes over you as one of the huge infected rips the part of a sturdy wooden fence out of the ground and holds it over its head, roaring up towards the sky.

It's a beautiful day, the rain has faded away and the sun is shining so bright that you've all stopped making fun of Dave's glasses for once. If there were any birds left, they'd be singing. You run backwards through grassland, firing shots aimlessly, praying to a god, any god, that they'll hit.

Rose yells something that you don't catch, and the infected throws its makeshift weapon up into the air and you run like hell, head down like that will help you, yelling from the effort.

The fence lands _hard_ and though it doesn't hit any of you it sends up clouds of sandy soil, mixing with the dust already in the air and suddenly it's harder than hell to breathe. All of you are coughing and choking, and your lungs are on fire, your eyes watering, but you have to keep them open.

Dave's yelling out swear words, and his voice is fading and that's when you realize you have to go back for him, because he's stuck. You can't see the girls anywhere, but there's no way in hell you're going to leave someone behind.

You can't believe you're doing it, but you turn without hesitation, and you're running towards Dave, but also towards that giant monstrosity, its guttural shrieks mixing with Dave's incresingly frantic insults, which are really just disguised pleas for help.

"Fuck you, you fucking dickwads, I swear to fucking _God_ ," the blond boy is yelling when you reach him, and he doesn't even notice you're there until you put your hand on his shoulder, shaking him. "Fuck you, Egbert, if you try to go Prince fucking Phillip on me I'll fucking cut out your tongue–"

"Would you shut up?" you hiss, pressing your hand over his mouth. "I'm all out of ammo, you have your stupid piece of shit ninja sword. If you're putting two and two together and getting we should be loud as possible, then you're _wrong_ , idiot."

For once in his life, Dave shuts up, but only to widen his eyes, something you notice even behind his sunglasses, as he reaches an arm up to point behind you.

You turn quickly, expecting the infected to be right there, breathing heavy and ready to kill, but instead it's just Jade and Rose, covered in green and red, sticky and disgusting, Jade smiling so big her eyes are closed, and Rose smirking valiantly.

Behind them you see the large, unmoving form of a fallen infected.

"So," says Rose, "if you two are done playing Titanic, we should probably patch Strider up and get moving."

.

You forget, far too often, that you aren't the only one who feels lost and empty.

It doesn't take much to remind you, however.

Dave's legs will shake as he walks in front of the group, always insisting on being the first to go everywhere, his knuckles porcelain white where they're gripped around his sword. He'll push his sunglasses up the bridge of his nose with too much force, and you know he doesn't wear them just to keep the sun out, not anymore.

Rose's mouth will be set in a firm line, but you'll be able to see her biting at the inside of her mouth, like she's trying not to scream. She talks the least of you all, but when she does talk it's rambling diatribes, theories and speculation that you fall asleep to, some nights, and she doesn't mind, you know, because she just needs to get it all out, even if no one's listening.

Jade's hands will ghost over the top of a small plant, growing on the side of a highway lined with abandoned cars, and she'll whisper words of encouragement, she'll apologize for not having a can of water with her. She'll hum songs when you're stuck in the middle of a storm, as she shoots down infected in the distance, and it's been so long since she let any of you see her cry.

Your entire body is a bundle of nerves, broken and laid open, bruised and bleeding, laced with stitches that have been opened and will be opened again, no matter how careful you are. You walk aimlessly, and there was a time when you were the leader, but now you keep your eyes to the ground, the wind having finally blown out the flame inside you.

The four of you are dirty and tired, so, so tired, following a trail of safe houses north, and hoping that one day you'll stumble upon something worth living for again.

The air is becoming heavy and hot and none of you ever venture to look up at the sun, it's far too bright.

.

" _Jesus_." You fall to your knees, and then forward, legs suddenly numb.

Then there's an explosion of pain in the back of your calf, and you hear the low yowling of an infected, one of those ones with the claws and skinny limbs, and it's got one of its sharp nails dug into your leg. You try to twist away, but you know it's hopeless. Usually you take special care to have Jade shoot this kind from far away. The few times someone has gotten attacked by one it's taken a collective effort of the other three to save them.

Your mind empties and it's so quiet.

For a long moment (forever, it seems like) you lay there and you are so sure that this is it. It's all over. You've been left behind in a dark, sticky hot Oklahoma night, and the last thing you will hear is the sound of an emaciated monster breathing over your skin.

But.

No.

You think, _no_.

The four of you haven't come this far for this to be _it_.

You aren't going to die here, and you most certainly aren't going to die alone.

With all the strength you can muster you kick backwards, and the the thing screams at you, and you kick again, and it shrieks, and you kick _again_ and now it's the one writhing in agony, moaning out long strings of words in an unintelligible language. You have your gun in your hand on instinct, and before you can even think you're turning, ignoring the pain in your lower leg, and its head explodes from close range.

Your heart is beating so fast you swear it's going to give out, and you let out a shaky, dry sob, unable to hold it back.

In the fading daylight you can see three figures running towards you, and one of them yells out your name, or maybe all of them do.

All you can do is smile.

.

There are maps in a farmhouse you stay in for a few nights while your leg is healing.

Maps with pins in them to mark distance and locations of certain places.

Rose wants to stay, has a whole laundry list of reasons why you should, and she fights with Dave, who wants nothing to do with staying in one place, and has been hellbent on running forever since the beginning, if that's what has to be done. Jade is stuck in the middle, seeing the merit in both plans, and trying to soothe the tension between the two.

You're too loaded with pain killers to have an opinion one way or another.

Eventually Dave falls asleep with his head on Rose's shoulder while she looks over maps of the land. Jade stands outside on the front porch, keeping watch, the most reliable in that area of you all. The only sound is the occaisional gunshot as she aims, shoots, fires, and almost never misses.

It comes to you then, suddenly, that you will never trust anyone more than you do these three. They have been at your back ever moment, from the very beginning right up until now. Whenever you fall behind, they come back for you, and whenever you rush ahead, they follow. They've been here for your genius and for your stupidity, they have seen you at your best and your worst, and they haven't run away.

You cry, quiet, unbidden tears, and though you know she hears you Rose doesn't say anything, because she understands.

.

One night you wake up, mouth trembling, it hurts so _bad_.

Without thinking you turn to the other person in bed and it's Dave who pulls you to him. Your head bowed to his chest, you sniffle and tell him he smells like ass, that he could definitely use a shower. It's the first time you've ever heard him laugh, even if it is small and sad.

You fall asleep with his fingers tracing your spine.

.

A few weeks later and Rose is reprimanding you for charging into the middle of the fight.

You shrug sheepishly, and she lets you get away with it because, hell, you did blow away every infected motherfucker in the immediate area. There's gauze wrapped around the entirity of your left calf, tight and constricting, but you forget about it sometimes.

Rose taps her metal baseball bat against the ground like a queen would a scepter as she surveys the area around you, head held high.

She holds herself to a higher standard than she does the rest of you, you've come to realize. She carries the weight of a dead world on her shoulders, and she thinks of you all as her responsibility, as much as she thinks of you as family.

You think she looks prettiest as she is right now, bangs plastered to her forehead with sweat, a thin layer of dust and sweat on her skin, clothes torn beyond repair.

You open your mouth to tell her, but before you can a hoard is jumping from the top of a nightclub and Rose swings her bat behind her shoulder and brings it down on the head of the zombie in front of the pack with a metallic _thud_.

Like the last straggling members of a forgotten battalion, the four of you fight in a war that seems like it will never end.

.

Jade sits cross-legged on the floor of the music shop you're staying in for the night.

She found a tarnished flute left in the back room, and is playing silent songs, not blowing any air into it, her fingers moving at lightning speed.

You close your eyes and you see marching bands, football games and concession stands. You see cars driving down streets and lights changing to tell them when to stop. You see people walking, people talking and people standing completely still, doing absolutely nothing but being alive. You see your house, the front door and the living room, the messy kitchen and the piano you used to play, the stairs and the bathroom and your bedroom, the tiny room you wished you could escape.

You see your father, trying his best until the very end, giving it everything he's got, even if you never really realized it until now.

You see so many things you never thought you would miss.

You open your eyes and you see Jade adjusting the mouthpiece of the flute, Dave flipping through the torn pages of a book of music and Rose fondly wiping dust off a broken violin bow.

They are your best friends in the entire world, and if this is all you have to look forward to for the rest of your life, constant fear and a never-ending journey to a yet to be seen destination, you'll be okay, as long as you're with them.

.

The safe house has to be miles away (or maybe its only a few hundred feet or maybe–) and you know you aren't going to make it.

A gas explosion blew up several cars on the highway the four of you are running down, and the flames are growing ever higher in the dry heat. It feels like you're running through hell, your skin is surely melting, turning shiny and red from heat and there are tears in your eyes that you don't even think about hiding.

You haven't had time to think for almost two months now.

Jade is screaming ahead of you, out of bullets and wielding her gun like a blunt weapon, fierce as ever.

You hope to god that Rose and Dave are right behind you, though all you hear in your ears is the roar of fire around you, mixed with muted yells that could just as easily be human as they could be infected. There's not much of a difference now.

You feel hands on your shoulder, and you don't turn back.

An evac center is set up at the exit ramp you're heading across now, a crude spraypainted symbol marking where a helicopter should land, signs spray painted with stories, claims of the apocalypse, a running death toll and messages, survivors talking in any way they can.

' _I'm so scared_ ,' and ' _Don't give up hope_ ,' and ' _We won't give up this easily_ '.

Jade is the first to reach the safe house and she whips around to reach out to you, pulling you inside with ease. Dave and Rose are looking battered, but your heart sings to see them alive and they clamber up inside with the two of you.

You close the door on the inferno outside, on the death and destruction, in the face of a hundred, a thousand, a million infected that seem to shriek in unison as you are hidden from them once more.

The four of you sit and lay on top of one another, a tangled pile of limbs, breathing air in like you've just been saved from drowning. None of you say anything.

The world is still falling apart outside the door as you lay there. This is not over, it might never be over. But for another minute you're all together, a quiet minute free of fear and gunfire.

And, for now, that's enough.


End file.
